


Camille

by m3aculpa



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Character Death, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-20
Updated: 2011-01-20
Packaged: 2017-10-24 15:31:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/265076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m3aculpa/pseuds/m3aculpa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Armand lied and Camille died. Kurt and Mike could not be Armand and Camille and Kurt could not be saved by love, because by definition they had to do one thing each. But Kurt had done both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Camille

**Author's Note:**

> **Title:** Camille  
>  **Fandom:** Glee **  
> Rating:** PG  
>  **Characters/Pairings:** Kurt, Mike, Mike/Kurt  
>  **Warnings:** Suggested character death, off-screen sex  
>  **Word count:** 598 words  
>  **Summary** : Armand lied and Camille died. Kurt and Mike could not be Armand and Camille and Kurt could not be saved by love, because by definition they had to do one thing each. But Kurt had done both.  
>  **a/n:** I'd like to remind you of the charity auction, as it will end on Sunday, but you can still [bid on me here](http://waltzmatildah.livejournal.com/67134.html?thread=1423422).  
> 

Modern society worships at the Hollywood altar of beauty, but it’s more sordid and blatantly sexual than back in the Golden days. The art of sensuality has been lost; the kind that transcends gender and makes you weirdly excited and palms start sweating and you feel vaguely ashamed, because it is not sexual. Not really. It’s just the vague notion of it that makes your heart beat faster and pulse race.  
   
Kurt loves Greta Garbo in Camille. He loves her in all her movies, but especially in Camille. The number of times he has watched the movie and cried is immeasurable. He loves the book as well. Alexandre Dumas is a great writer, but an even greater plagiariser. The Count of Monte Cristo was written by somebody else originally, but Dumas took it and changed it slightly. That’s the true meaning of irony, Alanis Morisette; the copy overcoming the original. Truth does not prevail.  
   
Mike has not seen the film or read the book. He has little to no understanding of Kurt’s love for the old black and white films and the beauty that cannot be found in modern cinema. Still he presents a camellia to Kurt and says that he can be the Armand to Kurt’s Camille.  
   
Kurt flinches; Armand lied and Camille died. He takes the flower from Mike with one hand and grasps his hand with the other. The petals are red and cool against his skin when he rests it against his arm. With a smile he tugs Mike closer. There’s laughter in his voice when he says that maybe they should try to be Kurt and Mike first, before they attempt to be other people.  
   
Mike touches him and his hands are branding Kurt’s body with their heat. The heat is all-consuming, ever-encompassing, a little like death. Kurt feels like there will be nothing left of him after the fire has ravaged his body. He is sure that Mike knows his body better than he knows it himself.  
   
He can’t stay. Mike’s parents can’t suspect and his dad doesn’t need the worry. He leaves immediately afterward and puts the camellia in water first thing. It’s really lovely. Barely taking his eyes off it, he puts it down in front of the mirror. Camellias can live for extraordinarily long life spans compared to other plants,  
   
(Kurt’s grandmother had a parrot from that she was a young girl until she died. The parrot died a week after she passed away. Of grief, Kurt supposed and cried, because it seemed strangely poignant.)  
   
but Kurt won’t live long. He stares at the flower, before sitting down before the vanity. A toilette is grabbed and gently he starts rubbing the make-up away. Fading away it reveals pale skin and too blue veins underneath it. His long-sleeves hide the bruises left by Mike’s firm grip on him; these days, a wind can bruise him. He imagines that he looks like Greta Garbo: strangely graceful in his sadness. A hidden depth, dimension, to it; a mystery. One that will make people wonder and puzzle over that sadness.  
   
The coughing overtakes him and his grabs his white silk handkerchief. He likes the old-fashioned decadence of it. He coughs into it. When it comes away, there are specks of blood on the white fabric. Kurt hunches over and cries.  
   
They can’t be Armand and Camille, because that would depended on them doing two entirely different things each: one had to lie and one had to die.  
   
But Kurt is the one who had lied and Kurt would be the one to die.

  
 

**Author's Note:**

>  **Sequel** : [Namu Amida Butsu](http://archiveofourown.org/works/265077).


End file.
